Angel in My Arms (22 page)

"I'm not in the business anymore, Reb," she said. She tried to push by him, but he grabbed her arm.

"What do you mean,
not in the business?"
His fingers
pinched her arm tighter. "I walked my ass four miles in off that claim
to get a taste of Celeste, the heavenly body, and I aim to have me that
taste."

Celeste gritted her teeth as she tried to struggle free from his
grasp. "Did you hear me, Reb?" She spoke loudly and firmly, trying not
to let him hear any panic in her voice. "I'm no longer available. See
Kate. She'll set you up with a pretty girl to your liking."

He grabbed her other arm and pulled her against him. "I want you."

She thrust her face into his. "Don't you understand, Reb? I don't want
you."
She jerked both of her arms from his grasp.

She was so angry that she barely felt the pain. Free of his grasp, she spun on her heels and strode off.

He didn't follow her, but she could feel his eyes on her as she made
her escape. Apparently he had the decency to know when his attentions
weren't wanted after all. She lifted her skirts and walked faster, but
she didn't run. Damn men and their crude, rough ways.

Abruptly, she heard footsteps pound behind her. "Get back here, bitch. I was willing to pay you good money, but now—"

Celeste broke into a run, but a moment too late. Reb's hand clamped
her right shoulder and pulled her backward, hard against his solid,
stinking body.

"Now I guess I'll have that piece of tail for free."

Celeste screamed, twisted around, and elbowed him hard in the soft pouch of his stomach. "Get your hands off me!"

Reb grunted with pain. "Bitch!"

He slapped her.

She swung her arm up and managed to hit him in the jaw with her
balled fist. "Help!" she screamed to anyone who might hear her. "Help
me!"

He wrapped his arm around her throat, and Celeste panicked as he cut off her breath.

"Who do you think you are, denyin' me? Filthy whore! You're goin'
straight to hell for this, you know. Straight to hell for spreadin'
your legs, tempting honest men like myself."

Oh my God,
Celeste thought.
Is it him? Is Reb the killer?

"So how's about we find ourselves a little private place?" Reb hauled her backward, off the sidewalk, and into the alley.

Celeste struggled and dragged her feet. She tried to twist in his
arms, but he had her pinned against his body. The smell of his sour
sweat and the bad whiskey made her want to vomit. She was dizzy from
lack of air. Her head spun in black circles and her limbs felt weak.
Please don't let me faint,
she thought.
Don't let me faint and this man butcher me.

In answer to her prayers, Celeste heard running footsteps. Reb
turned to see who was approaching, just as Celeste spotted a man leap
through the air.

Reb gave a grant of surprise. He let go of Celeste and she fell to the ground, gasping for breath.

The dark figure hit Reb in the center of his chest and sent him
hurling backward into the livery stable wall. Rotten boards creaked and
splintered.

"What the hell?" Reb shouted. "Get off! Get off!"

Panting to catch her breath. Celeste looked up.

Fox MacPhearson shoved Reb to the ground, face first on the hard dirt between the stable and the sidewalk.

It was Fox! Fox had come for her. He'd saved her from rape at the very least, perhaps death.

"Looking for trouble?" Fox demanded, his voice so harsh and threatening that it frightened even Celeste.

"No. No trouble," Reb answered. Fox held him down, chest to the
ground, his arms twisted unnaturally behind his back, his cheek pressed
into a pile of dry horse dung.

"Celeste, you all right?" Fox called over his shoulder.

She pushed herself off the ground and brushed the grass and dirt
from her lavender gown and matching petticoat. Her throat hurt and she
still felt dizzy, but she was all right. "Fine. Fine," she managed.
"This… this is Reb."

Fox grabbed Reb by a handful of his matted hair and sat on his back,
his knees pressed into Reb's back. "You bothering my woman?"

"N… no. Did… didn't know she was taken. U… used to know her—in the biblical sense."

"Did she tell you to get lost?"

When Reb didn't answer immediately, Fox jerked up the miner's head
and looked into Reb's bloodshot eyes. "I said, did she tell you she
wasn't interested?"

"Y… yeah. Yeah."

Celeste was shocked by the intensity of Fox's rage, by his brutal
behavior. It wasn't that she wasn't glad to see him, she'd just never
seen this side of him.

The unwanted thought drifted through her mind that perhaps a man this full of rage really could be capable of murder.

"Then I'd suggest you take your sorry ass elsewhere!" Fox slammed his face into the dirt and climbed off him.

Celeste stood there and stared at Fox as he straightened his black
jacket. She wasn't afraid of him, but she wondered for the first time
if she should be. She was certain in her heart he wasn't a killer, but
at the time she wondered if she could trust her instincts.

"You sure you're all right?" Fox asked. They stepped out onto the
sidewalk where there was a little more light from the street beyond
them.

Reb scrambled up and disappeared down the alley, running in the opposite direction.

"Yes. Yes, I'm all right." She patted her hair that had come down
from its chignon in the struggle. "He didn't hurt me. Just scared me."

He took her arm possessively. "You shouldn't be out here alone." He escorted her back up the sidewalk toward Peach Street.

There was something in his tone that set Celeste off. "You mean I was asking for it?" She halted to face him.

His dark eyes were stormy, his hair ruffled. "I mean you shouldn't
be outside after dark, alone. It's not safe. I don't want you doing it
again. You want to go somewhere, I'll take you."

She gave a little laugh, but there was no amusement in her voice.
"Fox MacPhearson, I'll come and go any damned time and any damned where
I please."

He looked at her as if she'd just grown horns. "What?"

"You heard me! You can't tell me where I can and can't go."

"That's ridiculous. It's not safe for you to be on the streets at
night. Not with all the strangers in town and a murderer on the loose.
You belong at home."

She looked him straight in the eye. "And just how do I know I'm safe there?" she asked softly.

Before Fox could reply, she strode away, headed for Plum Street.

When Celeste heard the front lock click and the door open, she wiped
her wet hands on her apron and crossed the kitchen to stir her stew.
She and Fox had intended to go out tonight to celebrate their silver
strike. After what had happened earlier, she'd assumed there would be
no celebratory meal. He had been gone over an hour.

Fox entered the kitchen with Silver at his heels and Celeste felt a
pang of jealousy. Lately it seemed as if the dog was more his than hers.

She heard him halt in the doorway. She could feel him watching her.

The stew no longer needed to be stirred, but she stirred it anyway,
just so she wouldn't have to turn and face him. The kitchen was quiet
save for the sound of the bubbling supper and the sound the light
breeze made when it tickled the frilly curtains at the open window.

"Celeste, what just happened back there on the street?"

She took a deep breath. "Someone got rough with me. You came along, broke it up." She held the wooden spoon tightly in her hand.

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

She turned to him. "You can't tell me what to do. You have no right. No ties that bind, remember?"

"I have a right to be concerned for your safety." He strode into the kitchen.

"You can be concerned," she granted. "But you can't tell me what to
do." She shook the spoon at him. "I vowed a long time ago not to ever
let a man run my life again."

He raised one eyebrow. "So you didn't want me to pull that jackass off you?"

She knew he must think she was being irrational. Hell, she felt
irrational. The point was that he couldn't have it both ways. He
couldn't tell her that because she had been a whore he could never love
her, and at the same time want to play the part of husband and
protector. It wouldn't be fair. Celeste had to remain independent of
him. It was the only way she could accept their relationship of sex
without commitment.

She sighed. "I'm sorry. I should have thanked you for saving me. He
could have raped me." She stared at her button shoes. "I just didn't
like the attitude you took afterwards. It's as if you want me, but you
don't want me." She lifted her gaze.

He was quiet for a moment as he mulled over her words. "You're
right. I don't make any sense to you because I don't make any sense to
myself." He took a step toward her, his hand outstretched. "Celeste, I
care for you very much. I'm damned attracted to you. I love holding you
in my arms, touching you, having you touch me. But—"

There was that knife in her heart again, twisting, wrenching. He
loved her body, but not her. Never her. She struck out with the only
weapon she had, her calm logic. "Look, we've agreed on the ground
rules. I expect nothing from you, but in return, you can't make demands
on me. You can't tell me what to do. You can't control me."

"I just want you to be safe."

He spoke so kindly, so honestly, that Celeste put her arms around
him and kissed his cheek. Even without love, this was the most
fulfilling relationship with a man she'd ever experienced. It wasn't
what she wanted, what she'd dreamed of, but she was a fool not to take
what he offered. Any woman in Kate's would have given a limb to have a
man say that he just wanted her to be safe. "I know," she whispered.
"I'm sorry I'm acting so crazy."

He encircled her waist and brushed his lips against her temple and
the hair that curled in tendrils there. "So what was that about
wondering if you were safe here… with me, you meant." He pushed her
back so that he could look into her eyes. "You don't think I could be
the murderer, do you?" There was a flash of desperation in his
concerned voice.

She remembered the rage Fox had expressed only an hour ago on Cherry
Street… but when she looked into his Indian eyes, she didn't see a
murderer. She just didn't. "No," she said softly. "I don't believe it;
I just said it because I was angry. But," she traced the line of his
jawbone with her index finger, "there are others in town who are
talking. Wondering."

He kissed the tip of her nose, released her, and walked away. "That damned Tate. He's had it in for me since I arrived in town."

"There was some gossip about your past. Something Tate mentioned to someone."

Fox whipped around. "About my past?" He strode toward her. "What about my past?"

Unnerved, she took a step back, the spoon smelling of stew still in
her hand. "I… I don't know. Sally didn't say. She didn't know anything
either. Only that Tate had mentioned you had a past."

"There's nothing in my past that is anyone's business but my own," he flared.

Celeste thought of her own past and nodded. "I'm certainly in
agreement with that." She dropped the spoon back into the stew. "I
think you should just ignore Tate. Maybe he's passing the gossip around
town in the hopes of drawing out the killer. Maybe if the killer thinks
the sheriff thinks it's someone else, he'll make a mistake."

Fox leaned on the back of one of the kitchen chairs. "I sure hope
so, because we don't need this right now. We've got a hell of a mess
out on the claims. I had to hire two more men this morning to keep
claim jumpers at bay. The workers are having a bad time keeping the
walls up of that last pit we dug. The carpenters are supposed to be
building the barn to house the equipment—" He rubbed his hand across
the back of his neck. "And don't ask me how well the timber walls of
the shaft are going up, because you don't want to know."

She pointed to the table. "Set the plates. I made stew and biscuits.
We'll eat and discuss the operation. We've got to have a plan once the
miners start hauling the ore from underground."

His anger over Tate and the troubles with the mine faded, and he
flashed a boyish grin. "So we're moving onto another conversation.
That's good. Does that mean I'm out of hot water now, and there might
be a place for me in that bed of yours tonight?"

She smiled sassily. The way he watched her made her warm all over.
It wasn't that she could so easily forget the problems between them,
only that she was desperate for every shred of happiness she could
find. Life was too short not to enjoy; Margaret and Pearl were proof of
that. "It's a possibility." She turned away. "Now get the bowls. The
stew is ready and I'm starved."

After the meal and a thick piece of chocolate velvet cake, Celeste
and Fox sat down with ink and pen and paper and began to write down
what needed to be done at the MacPhearson's Fortune to get the first
mine in full operation. People outside the mining business had the idea
in their heads that a miner just dug a deep hole like a well and
brought up ore in buckets on an ordinary windlass or some other crude
convenience. The truth was, Celeste and Fox were quickly learning, that
mining silver ore was far more complicated. The sides of the pits they
had initially dug were already beginning to slump, and a timber shaft
would have to be dug.

First a building had to be constructed over the shaft. The building,
resembling a small factory, would house the shaft and housing works. If
their first mine were as prosperous as the assayer guessed The Celeste
would be, additions would have to be added to the main building to
house carpenters, blacksmiths, and machinists. Once the five foot by
twenty foot shaft was dug, cages would have to be set in place to hoist
and lower men, ore, and supplies. A pipe would have to be set in place
to pump water from the depths of the mine, and fresh air would be blown
in to keep the miners alive. Then there were steam-hoisting engines and
hoisting spools and a myriad of other equipment to be put into place.